Agent to the President
by jenfaberry
Summary: Newly elected President Rachel Berry now has Secret Service agents following her everywhere. And she means Everywhere… lucky for her, one happens to be the gorgeous Agent Quinn Fabray. Spending so much time together, they can't help but fall in love.
1. Chapter 1

A/N – Welcome to my new story! I know, I know… I still have my others to finish, and I will. But this idea came to me and I decided to run with it.

Enjoy!

 **Agent to the President**

Newly elected President Rachel Berry now has Secret Service agents following her everywhere. And she means Everywhere… lucky for her, one happens to be the gorgeous Agent Quinn Fabray. Spending so much time together, they can't help but fall in love.

 **Chapter 1**

" _This is Jacob Ben Israel reporting for CNN news. We can now confirm that Rachel Berry, the Senator from Ohio, has captured enough electoral votes to become the 47th President of the United States, and the first woman ever to hold this office. For more on this historic victory, and to get the inside scoop on the private life of President-elect Berry, we go to CNN political correspondent Kitty Wilde…"_

Rachel switched off the TV and shook her head in disbelief as she looked over at her close friend and campaign advisor Tina. "I still can't believe it, Tina. I freaking won! Everyone said it was impossible. Me, a young relatively inexperienced political single woman, President of the United States. They said it couldn't be done. But we did it!"

"I'm honestly not surprised, Rachel. The American people see in you what your supporters have seen all along—a competent, intelligent, dedicated, passionate leader. Who wouldn't want someone like that running the country?" Tina said with a wide grin. She pulled Rachel in for a warm hug. "Congratulations, Rach!"

Rachel let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as she hugged her friend. The past several months of campaigning and traveling and speeches was finally over. She just couldn't believe it. Shocked actually. And very honored. Honored that her fellow Americans trusted her enough to lead their country.

Finally, Tina pulled away. "Now come on. It's time to stop hiding in this room and go out and meet all your adoring fans and supporters. You've got a victory speech to give, Madame President" she said with a wink.

"I'm not President yet, Tina," Rachel said, suddenly a bit overwhelmed.

Tina rolled her eyes. "Fine. Madame President-Elect. Now stop debating the details and go out there and wow that crowd."

Rachel nodded and took a deep breath before following Tina from the room.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

Quinn Fabray sighed as she made her way to Director Sylvester's office. She'd been summoned, more like ordered by a very intimidating Becky Jackson, to a meeting with her boss, but she had no idea what she'd done… this time. She'd been with the Secret Service for three years, and had been a successful FBI Agent before that. She'd always been at the top of the pyramid, so to speak, with everything she did. However… she did have a rebellious streak. She had a take-no-prisoners attitude that sometimes didn't jive well with the rigid structure of federal law enforcement. But despite her tendency to revolt against authority every now and then, she was damn good at her job and she knew it.

So as she followed the short blonde Assistant-to-the-Director down the hallway toward her boss's office, she was confused by the unexpected summons. She knew she hadn't broken protocol… this week at least.

Quinn nodded respectfully at the Director as she entered the large and obscenely decorated office. Quinn had never seen so many trophies and certificates and plaques all in one place before. She and her fellow agents had a bet going about how many of Sue Sylvester's awards were fake, made up by the Director herself.

Sue motioned to one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Have a seat, Agent Fabray."

The older woman's stern nature always made Quinn slightly nervous, but over the years, she had mastered the ability to hide unwanted emotions from her expression. "Director, I'm not sure what I did to merit a meeting with you-"

But Sue held up a hand to silence her. "Agent Fabray, I didn't call you here to reprimand you."

"Oh…" Quinn replied, her eyebrow arched, confusion settling over her. "So then why am I here?"

The Director stared at the young agent, her pale blue eyes digging into the soul. "Agent Fabray, as you know, Senator Berry was elected to be the next President. As such, we'll be assigning a detail of agents to protect her at all times, making sure that at least one agent is shadowing her at all times. We'll have a rotation of three agents sharing this role in order to provide full coverage, while allowing the agents time off for their own personal matters. Because the coverage is twenty-four hours a day, and can include private and personal matters of the President, we'd like these agents to be female. I've decided that you will be one of those agents. The other two will be Agent Lopez and Agent Rose."

Quinn nodded as the stunning news washed over her. This was the biggest assignment of her career. It didn't get any bigger than being assigned to the Presidential detail. It was what she'd worked towards for so long.

"Congratulations, Fabray. You've earned it," Sue complimented, which was a very rare occurrence. "You start tomorrow."

The young agent nodded, still stunned. "Thank you, Director. I won't let you down."

Sue waved her dismissively out of her office. "Now go. I'm sick of looking at your Malibu Barbie face."

Quinn rolled her eyes at the woman's comment and left the room.

She headed down the hall to her own office and flung herself down in her chair behind her desk.

Rachel Berry…

She couldn't believe she'd be guarding the sexy body of Rachel Berry.

Quinn had followed Rachel's political career ever since the brunette came onto the scene. She had to admit that she was impressed with the way Rachel handled the political snake pit, and how she always stood up and accomplished everything she showed a passion for. Many senators would never admit it, but they were scared of little Rachel Berry. She could command any room she was in; from a small boardroom to the great arena of Congress. She was feisty and never backed down from a challenge. Quinn respected her for that.

Deciding she needed a distraction, she went to seek out her best friend and fellow agent, Noah Puckerman.

Walking into Puck's office, she unsurprisingly found him flirting with one of the secretaries. She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. The woman's gaze (quickly looked) over at her in embarrassment, then she straightened her skirt and quickly left the room. "Some things never change, do they, Puckerman? You're already trying to get up into that poor new secretary's skirt?"

"Hey! A man's got needs, Fabray," he defended, but the smirk on his face told the whole story.

Quinn snorted. "Right. If that excuse helps you sleep at night." She smirked. Despite his flirty tendencies, Quinn knew Puck was a decent guy at heart and he'd been a good friend to her, even when others had left her high and dry in the past. "So…" she began. "I just got assigned to the Presidential detail."

"No shit?! Really? That's great, Q!" Puck crossed the room and gave her a congratulatory hug. "You deserve it."

A smile grew on her lips. "Thanks, Puck. I start tomorrow."

"You'll do great. Besides, there's plenty of worse assignments to pull. JewBabe… I mean Madame President-Elect, is hot as hell. Wish I were so lucky. But after that little incident with the Russian ambassador's daughter, Sylvester's been giving me nothing but shit assignments. Covering ex-President Comb-Over's vacation was awful. Not only will I never recover from seeing his wrinkly old man-boobs and tiny speedo, but that dude's got some serious problems with gas. Sylvester definitely has it in for me."

Quinn laughed. Puck was right about one thing… Rachel Berry was hot. Beyond hot actually. That was going to be a major job perk. And even though she knew the President-Elect was straight—in fact Rachel Berry was quite the playgirl being linked to a new guy every other week—Quinn definitely didn't mind having the job of literally watching the woman all day. There were a lot worse hardships one could face in this world.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

The next day, Quinn stood in her best suit, alongside Santana and Marley, as they waited for Director Sylvester to arrive with the President-Elect. Quinn was glad she'd splurged on the expensive outfit. There was something about the finely tailored black ensemble that made her feel like a badass. And with the nervous energy raging through her body, she could use any confidence boost she could get.

The three agents stood in a row, backs straight, earpieces in place, as they stared straight ahead.

"What do you think she's like? Do you think she's nice?" Marley whispered nervously.

"Does it matter? She's going to be the President of the United States, Rose," Santana said, her tone hard. "It's not like you and her are suddenly going to become BFFs. I hate to break it to you, but you're not going to be staying up late with her talking about boys and braiding each other's hair."

Quinn cracked a smile and rolled her eyes. She loved Santana and her snarky attitude.

At that moment, Director Sylvester walked into the room with the woman in question, along with Rachel's assistant, Jesse St. James.

Quinn's heart suddenly threatened to pound right out of her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to keep her eyes straight ahead and to retain the professional emotionless mask she'd so finely crafted over the years.

"Madame President-Elect, as I was telling you before, these are the three agents who will be assigned to your personal detail from this point on." Sylvester motioned toward Quinn and her colleagues as she spoke. "They will be your shadow wherever you go. At least one of them will be with you, or in your immediate vicinity, at all times. Your safety is our main priority. And these agents are the best of the best. You'll be in very safe hands."

Rachel nodded and smiled at the Director.

"Thank you so much, Director Sylvester. Will you please introduce me?" Rachel asked as she gestured towards the agents.

St. James cut in. "Madame President-Elect, these agents are here to serve and protect you. There's no need for an introduction. It's their job to be seen and not heard-"

Rachel shook her head, cutting him off. "No, if we're going to be spending so much time together, I would like to know who they are."

Sylvester nodded. "This is Agent Rose," she said, motioning toward the first agent.

Rachel smiled and approached the young brunette agent who looked nervous. "It's good to meet you, Agent Rose." Rachel smiled warmly and took Marley's hand, clearly attempting to put her at ease.

Sylvester then gestured to Santana, who wore a look of complete indifference. "This is Agent Lopez."

Rachel smiled, clearly expecting one in return, but was met instead with a standoffish nod. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, Quinn tried not to laugh at the Latina's attitude. Santana took "all business" to new heights. "It's great to meet you, Agent Lopez," Rachel responded, before moving on to Quinn.

"This is Agent Fabray."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat when she was finally able to lay her eyes on the gorgeous woman staring back at her. The soon-to-be President was breathtakingly stunning, and even more beautiful in person. She was indeed young for someone who was to become the Leader of the Free World, but Quinn could see the wisdom and life experience in those sparkling brown eyes, which were lit up with enthusiasm and seemed to make the room brighten just from her presence. Or perhaps, that was only Quinn's mind playing tricks on her. No one else seemed to be that affected by the brunette's presence.

She offered Rachel a small smile as she took her outstretched hand. The minute their fingers touched, Quinn felt a bolt of lightning course through her entire body.

"It's… uh… it's great to meet you, Agent Fabray," Rachel stuttered as her eyes locked on Quinn's. "I can't wait to get to know you better."

Quinn couldn't tear away from that intense gaze. There was something about this woman that lit a fire inside of her. Quinn nearly died as Rachel smiled at her, flashing her trademark dimple. This woman was doing things to her that she'd never felt before. Those sparkling brown eyes, the subtle hint of her citrusy perfume. And then… when they'd touched… Quinn struggled to remain upright. Every last ounce of her being was ablaze. And that dimple… oh, that sexy dimple…

Finally, Jesse St. James cleared his throat, breaking their little moment before it became too overly awkward. "Madame, we should be going. You've got a meeting with Senator Abrams in 20 minutes."

Rachel reluctantly nodded and released Quinn's hand, the blonde immediately mourning the loss of her touch.

Sue gestured to Quinn. "Fabray, you know the drill. You're to accompany President-Elect Berry everywhere she goes. Lopez will relieve you tonight at 8pm."

Quinn nodded curtly and followed Rachel from the room. She silently cursed Jesse St. James and his interruption. She never wanted to let go of that warm, soft hand, never wanted to leave this woman's side. Maybe she was delusional, but it felt like maybe Rachel had felt something between them too. Their little moment sure hadn't felt one-sided, but Quinn knew it was probably her own delusions.

After all, the brunette woman was a politician. It was her job to make each person she met feel as though they were the most important person in the world.

Either way, Quinn knew she was going to enjoy this assignment, so long as she didn't lose her professional cool.

As she walked, she silently thanked her lucky stars that her job description required her to tail Rachel Berry everywhere. She smirked, checking out the brunette's gorgeous ass as she followed her down the hallway.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

A/N – So what do you guys think?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - Thanks for all the warm reviews!

Disclaimer - I don't own anything related to Glee.

 **Chapter 2**

Over the next four months, Quinn did her job perfectly. She accompanied Rachel everywhere, making sure the President was always safe and secure. But other than a few smiles and polite nods of acknowledgement, and more than a few stolen glances on Quinn's part, there hadn't been much interaction between her and the brunette. However, this wasn't unexpected. Rachel Berry was a busy woman; probably one of the busiest people in the world, and it wasn't exactly in Quinn's job description to stand around and chat with her. She was there to protect her, nothing else. Still, that didn't mean Quinn wasn't just a little disappointed.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd allowed her mind to wander a few times — okay, more than few times — and had fantasized many different scenarios where she and Rachel became close. Maybe a little _too_ close. But hey, a girl was allowed to dream, right? So what if Rachel was beyond straight? It didn't hurt to engage in a little healthy fantasy now and then.

A smile spread across Quinn's face as she currently indulged in one of those daydreams. This one involving the President… her desk in the Oval Office… and little clothing.

 _Quinn forcefully swept the desk contents to the floor, not caring about the mess or the noise it made. She wrapped her arms around Rachel, gripping her firm and perfect ass in her hands. Smiling, she squeezed and received a squeak from the President. She lifted her up, then laid her down across the smooth hard wood surface, mesmerized by those intense and lustful dark brown eyes that were penetrating her soul… practically begging her to…_

"Agent Fabray?"

Quinn was yanked out of her daydream by a sweet — and slightly amused — voice addressing her. A voice that sent involuntary shivers down her spine.

"Wh-What?" she stumbled over the word. She cleared her throat, trying to quickly rid her mind of the inappropriate images.

"What put that smile on your face, Agent Fabray?"

Quinn's gaze snapped up to lock with the very woman with those same luscious chocolate eyes who was sitting behind the very desk that had just played an integral role in her fantasy.

The agent struggled to regain the ability of stringing two words together as the brunette was now giving her a perplexed look, undoubtedly because she was taking so long to respond. "Sorry, Ma'am. I… um… I just zoned out for a moment, that's all," she said, then cleared her throat again.

Rachel smiled playfully, amused by the unsettled agent. "No need to be nervous, Agent Fabray. I'm a normal person just like you, only with a fancy title." When Quinn didn't respond, Rachel continued. "Sooo… I'm assuming it must have been a very good… 'moment'," she said, smirking a bit, surprised when she saw the embarrassed reaction spread across the blonde's face. However, the uncharacteristic blush made Rachel curious about what the agent had actually been thinking of.

"I… uh… was just thinking about a good movie I watched the other day," Quinn stumbled. She mentally smacked herself on the forehead. What was wrong with her?! She had never in her entire life acted like a bumbling idiot. She was always cool and collected, and spoke with confidence. What was it about Rachel Berry that practically had her drooling at the mouth?

Sensing that a change of subject might be in order, Rachel simply nodded. "Can I ask you what your first name is? We've been together constantly for months now, and 'Agent Fabray' seems overly formal, don't you think?" She smiled, giving Quinn a glimpse of her adorable dimple.

Rachel's smile nearly made Quinn melt on the spot. That smile, those eyes, that natural confidence and warmth she exuded. Everything about Rachel made Quinn more and more attracted to her.

Over the past few months, she'd gotten to see the "private" Rachel Berry, the one behind closed doors. She was able to see the personal side as well as the public face side of the President. The brunette was one tough woman, but she was also kind and warm and generous. Many would've let the power of being the President of the United States go to their head and think they were above everyone else, but not this woman. No, Rachel Berry was very down-to-earth. She was polite and respectful to everyone she met; whether it were a politician, a famous dignitary, a movie star, or all the maids and other workers that kept the White House functioning. She treated everyone as equals and with the respect they deserved.

"Uh… Agent Fabray?" Rachel laughed at the zoned-out look on the blonde's face again.

"Oh, sorry, Madame President." Quinn smiled apologetically. "Apparently my mind's decided that today's a good day to wander. My name is Quinn."

Rachel nodded. "Can I ask you a favor, Quinn?"

"Of course," Quinn replied.

"When we're in private, please don't call me 'Madame President'. It's so formal and stiff. Please, just call me Rachel."

Quinn nodded, taken aback at the request. "Okay… sure. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

"Is 'Quinn Fabray' your full name? Or do you have a middle name?"

Quinn smirked, feeling a little more relaxed. "I do have another name, but I absolutely hate it. Only my mother ever uses it."

"Oh, I've got to hear this," Rachel laughed. "What is it?"

"I'd rather not say."

The President's eyebrow arched in surprised by the refusal. "Have a seat." She motioned to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

Quinn did as she was told, her heart starting to flutter at the sudden private interaction with the woman.

"Now, let me tell you something, Quinn," Rachel smirked, her dimple on full display again. She leaned towards the agent as if to lecture her, but the mischievous glint in her eyes gave her away. "I'm the President of the United States of America. And if I ask for information, I usually get it… one way or another. So, are you seriously going to deny me when I ask what your full name is?" She winked, letting Quinn know she was teasing.

Quinn's entire body was aflame at this point. Was this woman actually flirting with her? It sure felt like it. The banter was definitely tinged with what seemed like a flirty undertone, but maybe her mind was just playing tricks on her. It was hard to believe that Rachel Berry would in reality be interested in her.

After a few moments of silence, she steeled her courage and responded, deciding to give as good as she got. "My full name is Lucy Quinn Fabray. But no one gets permission to call me that unless there's something good in it for me. Plus, that person has to be really, really special." She grinned, her green eyes twinkling.

Rachel smirked right back. "Lucy Quinn Fabray. I like it. It suits you. So what would I have to do to have the honor of calling you that?"

Quinn bit her lip to smother the grin begging to overtake her face. She had to admit, she kind of liked the way her full name sounded coming from the beautiful woman. It rolled off her tongue so sweetly. "I'll have to think about it, then get back to you," she replied, noting the hit of flirt in her own tone.

Rachel laughed as she leaned back into her chair, linking her hands on top of her desk. "I look forward to it. So, tell me a little more about yourself, Quinn," she asked, not wanting their conversation to end. Ever since she first met the agent, she couldn't seem to get the blonde out of her mind. And she really wanted to get to know her.

"Well…" Quinn began, then cleared her throat.

Rachel shot her another dimpled grin, which put Quinn at ease again. There was something mysterious about that damn dimple… it did the trick every time.

"I won't bite. I promise," Rachel told her.

 _But what if I want you to bite?_ ran through Quinn's head. She thanked her lucky stars that her filter was still intact. Saying that aloud would have been so mortifying. "What would you like to know?" she said instead.

"Hmmm… Where did you grow up?" Rachel asked.

Quinn was relieved by the easy question. "I grew up in a small town in Ohio, but I haven't lived there since I graduated high school."

"Any siblings?"

Quinn nodded. "I have one sister. Her name is Frannie. She lives not too far away with her husband and daughter."

"Where did you go to school?"

"Yale for my undergrad, and then I got my law degree at Harvard," Quinn replied. The rapid-fire questions were starting to make her a little nervous, but then again, Rachel was known for her quick thinking and being a straight shooter. This kind of subtle interrogation wasn't entirely unexpected.

As if reading Quinn's mind, Rachel apologized. "I'm sorry. This is probably starting to feel like a job interview; and pretty one-sided. I just figured that you probably already know all about my background and family. It's not exactly information that hasn't been in the press for years." She paused as if pondering what to say next. "How about this? Tell me your favorite book and I'll tell you mine?"

Quinn couldn't help but let out a laugh. Rachel Berry certainly kept her on her toes. However, she had to admit that she was excited to see a more personal side to this fascinating woman. "There's no question about that, my favorite book has to be _Pride and Prejudice_."

Rachel's eyes widened in surprise. "No way! That's mine too! I absolutely love the wit and humor, but also the fact that it features a strong female who was prepared to sacrifice everything rather than live a life that wasn't her own. I firmly believe Austen is a genius."

Quinn smiled. Rachel had just summed up her own reasons for that book choice. "I agree 100%. Though, on a side note, I have to say, I always thought Lizzy's friend Charlotte was a lesbian." The minute the words were out of her mouth, Quinn immediately regretted them, not sure what Rachel's response would be.

However, the brunette just continued like nothing was out of the ordinary. "I can see that," she said, after taking a moment to ponder. "No one else would ever agree to marry a guy like Collins. She must have been desperate. Besides, there weren't exactly gay bars back then, so where could she have met a nice girl to shack up with. I felt sorry for her. Which film version do you prefer?"

"Definitely the BBC miniseries with Colin Firth. You?"

"The same," Rachel replied. "It's a classic book that can't be done with justice in only a 2 hour movie."

Quinn was beaming at this point. She liked this woman. A lot. She was witty and entertaining… and of course beautiful. And the fact that she was taking time out of her extremely busy day to bond with "the help" was beyond endearing.

"What's your favorite movie?" Rachel continued, thoroughly enjoying their conversation. There was something about this woman that put her at ease. She could already tell that she and Quinn Fabray were going to be fast friends.

"That's a tough one. There's so many good movies out there… and honestly, I'm more of a book person. But, if I had to choose, I think the winner would be _A League of Their Own_. No matter how many times I see it, I just love it."

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "That's a good one. My favorite… and you're probably going to laugh… is _Funny Girl_."

Quinn looked at her in question, eyebrow arched.

Silence hung in the air as Rachel gaped at her. " _Funny Girl_?" When Quinn just shrugged, she went on, " _Funny Girl_ the musical? The magnificent and goddess-like Barbra Streisand? The most iconic role in thematic history?"

Quinn scrunched her face in apology and shrugged again. "Sorry. I've never heard of it."

Rachel sat back in her chair stunned, her mouth gaping open. "Are you from another planet?"

This made Quinn laugh. "No. I've just never really been into musicals."

Closing her eyes and letting out a long breath, Rachel just couldn't believe it. How could anyone **not** know about Barbra Streisand and _Funny Girl_? After a moment, she opened her eyes and smiled at the agent. "That's okay. I forgive you. Besides, it now gives me the opportunity to introduce and convert you to the wonderful world of musicals."

"Sounds… interesting. Maybe I'll check it out sometime," Quinn said skeptically.

Rachel's heart warmed a little. She knew Quinn was humoring her, but it touched her that the agent would even try. Most people just made fun of her. "As a Broadway lover and enthusiast, it's my responsibility to make sure every American is acquainted with musicals. And I take all my responsibilities very seriously." She gave Quinn a sly smile and a wink.

Quinn's heart practically danced out of her chest at the obvious flirtation.

Like flipping a light switch, Rachel was serious again as she asked her next question. "So, where do you see yourself in 5 years?"

Quinn smiled at the sudden change in topic. "Well, I'd like to continue being successful in my career… though I'm not sure how I could go much higher than this assignment."

"I'm sure you earned this job, and I know that I'm thankful to have you here with me. I really appreciate the sacrifice you're making to ensure that I'm safe."

Quinn shrugged. "It's my job. No big deal."

"But it is a big deal," Rachel insisted. "I know a lot of people wouldn't be willing to do this job. You're brave and sacrificing, Quinn. And I admire that."

Their eyes locked and Quinn blushed slightly, which made Rachel's heart beat a little faster. Something about this woman flustered her. And she was not one to get flustered easily.

"Anyway…" Quinn finally continued, uncomfortable with the praise. "Other than my career, I'd like to find the right person, settle down and get married. Maybe have a kid or two. But that's not something I can just snap my fingers and create. Plus, my job doesn't exactly make it easy to keep a relationship going."

Rachel nodded in agreement. "I hear you. And now it's going to be even more difficult for me. Dating the President of the United States isn't exactly a low-pressure thing for anyone. But I'm determined to keep at it, even if the press wants to continue painting me as a heartbreaking, love 'em and leave 'em type."

Quinn smiled, sensing that this was a touchy subject for the brunette. "I completely understand. I was almost married once, but my fiancée couldn't accept how much time I put into my career. We eventually grew apart. I felt bad. But, I've always put my career first. It's important to me."

Rachel nodded in understanding. "I know what you mean. I definitely get it. I chose my career, to the detriment of my personal happiness. I sometimes regret it; having to keep up appearances, making sure I don't do anything that will be somehow spun as a scandal. But still, the press have painted me with this reputation as a serial dater. It's not because I don't want a long term relationship… I definitely do. Things are just complicated and I haven't found that one special person yet. And it sucks. Seeing my name out there with this less-than-savory reputation. I'm actually surprised that it didn't hinder my campaign. I don't know, maybe the public saw through all the lies. Or maybe they just don't care as much about my personal life as the press does." Rachel finally paused, realizing she'd been rambling. She didn't normally open up to people, let alone to someone she hardly knew, but there was something about Quinn that just made her want to share her feelings, and be completely open and honest. Something that made her feel an immediate connection with the blonde agent.

Quinn was a bit stunned by Rachel's openness. Stunned and happy. She got the sense that Rachel didn't open up often, so the fact that she had poured out her feelings to her must have meant something, right?

Rachel's next question interrupted Quinn's thoughts. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?"

Quinn chuckled, shifting in her seat to get more comfortable. "A superpower? Really?" This woman's quirks were adorable.

Just as Quinn was about to answer, Jesse St. James strode into the Oval Office like he owned the place. The relaxed atmosphere was immediately gone, replaced with tense heaviness.

Rachel shook her head in disappointment. That man could kill a mood in seconds flat.

"Madame President, you've got that date with Finn Hudson at the Capitol Cafe in 30 minutes. We should leave, you don't want to be late. He's got some great connections here in Washington that we can take advantage of. Besides, it's been months since you were photographed with anyone, and you know how the public loves reading about the personal lives of the powerful, rich and famous."

Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed.

Quinn hadn't noticed Rachel's less than enthused response, and her heart dropped at the mention of a date. She knew she had no right to be hurt, but that didn't stop her from feeling as though she'd just been gutted.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

Shortly thereafter, Rachel was seated across the table from Finn Hudson at a nice restaurant. Thankfully they were in a private room and wouldn't have to worry about any unwanted attention from fellow diners.

Quinn stood by the door, watching. This was part of her job that she definitely didn't enjoy — having to watch the woman that she wanted to date have a romantic dinner with someone else was sheer torture.

"So tell me about yourself, Finn?" Rachel began before taking a bite of her salad.

Finn shrugged and took a pull from his beer bottle. Rachel still couldn't believe he'd insisted on having the actual bottle instead of letting the waiter pour it into a glass. "Can't you just get some profile on me or something? I'm not really into the small talk thing?"

She sighed and closed her eyes. This was going to be a long night. "I suppose I could, but I prefer to do some things on my own. Where did you grow up?"

"Does it matter?" Finn responded.

Rachel was taken aback. This guy sure was a piece of work. Where had Jesse dug up this creep? "Well… what about your family… any siblings?"

He blew out a breath, like he was put out by answering all these questions. "I'm an only child. Dad died when I was young."

Rachel watched in disgust as he took an inappropriately large bite of his burger — another thing she couldn't believe he would order in such a fancy restaurant. She doubted it was even on the menu; the chef probably prepared it just for the idiot. "Where did you go to school?" she asked after he'd swallowed and took another glug from the beer bottle.

"I went to Florida State on a basketball scholarship. In high school, I was All-State, baby," he bragged, puffing out his chest with pride and leaning back in his seat, clearly expecting her to be impressed.

Rachel struggled to maintain her calm demeanor. She wanted to laugh out loud at this buffoon, but she was way too polite for that. However, she couldn't help but draw comparisons between this jerk and the fun conversation she'd had with Quinn earlier. "What's your favorite book?" she asked, regretting the question as soon as it left her mouth. She silently wondered if Finn could even read. How in the world could a guy like this have any political connections worth having?

"I don't read. Reading is for nerds and bored housewives. Unless you count Playboy. And no, I don't subscribe just for the articles." He shot her a self-satisfied smirk, then winked.

This had to be some kind of joke, Rachel thought. No real human could be this stupid. She battled to maintain a polite façade. "What about movies? Got a favorite movie?" She prayed for a decent answer. Movies didn't require any brainpower, so he shouldn't have any trouble answering.

He took another bite of his burger and began to answer even though he was still chewing. "I don't know. Anything with half-naked girls and blowing shit up is good with me."

Quinn laughed out loud, but quickly turned it into a fake cough. Rachel shot her a look with a quick smirk, before turning her attention back to Finn.

Rachel knew she shouldn't bother, but couldn't resist. "Where do you see yourself in five years, Finn?"

"I don't know. I live for the now. We could die tomorrow, so we might as well enjoy today. That's my motto. Seize the day and all that stuff. Which is why I like girls who put out on the first date. No reason to wait — we could be dead tomorrow."

"Well… that's an interesting philosophy, Finn." Did this guy know who he was talking to? Telling the President of the United States, in a not-so-subtle manner, that she should "put out"!?

Quinn wore an amused smirk. Rachel had been glancing up at her after each question, as if they had their own silent running joke, looking for Quinn's response to each of Finn's absurd answers.

Rachel silently prayed for an earthquake, a riot, a nuclear crisis… anything that would pull her away from this awful date. And this had to indeed be one terrible date if she was seriously wishing that kind of ill will on the world just to escape a night with this guy. But forget it, she was Rachel Berry, damn it. She could get through this. Forging ahead, she asked another question. "If you could have any superpower, what would it be?"

Finn smirked and responded, "X-ray vision, so I could see the hotties without their clothes on."

Rachel stared at him in disbelief. This had to be a joke. Where was the hidden camera? Had Jesse purposely found the most ignorant pig in the city to set her up with?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quinn hold a hand up to her earpiece. The agent nodded a few times before responding. "Right. Yes, sir. I'll pass along the message to her right away." She then stepped over to Rachel and bent to whisper in her ear.

Rachel suddenly felt a twinge of guilt, realizing that her selfish wishes for a crisis might have come true. However, those thoughts fell away as Quinn's warm breath tickled the skin next to her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

"It looked like you might want an out with this jerk. Play along and we'll pretend I just got an urgent message for you that requires your presence back at the White House. Or if I've read it wrong, just ignore me and I'll keep my mouth shut from now on."

Rachel nodded and smiled thankfully up at Quinn. This woman was a keeper. She thought she'd die if she had to spend another minute with this guy. Turning to Finn, she said, "I'm sorry, but there's a bit of a crisis and I need to go handle it. You know, being President and all." She only slightly regretted waiving her title in this jerk's face. "I've had a nice time and my people will be in touch. We'll take care of the check. Nice meeting you." She put on her brightest, kindest façade and shook his hand before leaving the restaurant with Quinn and the rest of her entourage.

As they got comfortable in the limo, Rachel looked over at Quinn and smiled. "Thank you so much, Quinn. You're a lifesaver… and a much better date than he'll ever be."

~~~~~QR~~~~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

" _You're a lifesaver… and a much better date than he'll ever be."_

Quinn constantly replayed those words over and over in her head for the next few days. She couldn't make heads or tails of it. Rachel had acted as if it were the most normal thing in the world to say. Clearly the brunette hadn't realized the effect that one sentence could have on Quinn. And now, Quinn could think of nothing else.

What had Rachel meant? Probably nothing. Rachel had most likely simply meant that Quinn could hold a normal, non-offensive conversation. And really, it didn't take much to beat that guy — he was a stereotypical chauvinist pig. Quinn shook her head as she thought about it. She hadn't actually believed that people like Finn Hudson actually existed. Clearly she'd been naïve.

Quinn tried desperately not to fixate on it, but that one seemingly passing remark had given her a small glimmer of hope. She knew she was setting herself up for disappointment, but she couldn't help it. What if? ...

Maybe Rachel _did_ mean it to be something more. After all, she'd asked Quinn the exact same questions that she'd asked Finn. Were those her typical first date conversation starters? Had Quinn been on a first date and not known it? Or had Rachel simply tried to make the best of a bad situation by amusing them both by asking the same questions they'd just discussed?

Quinn sighed in frustration and ran a hand through her hair before resuming her position guarding the door inside of the Oval Office. Unfortunately, her job was one that left ample time for thinking. Which meant she had nothing to do but over-think Rachel and those damn words.

Plus, it didn't help matters that she had to stare at the source of her confusion for hours on end. Every time the brunette beauty was anywhere near her, her whole body felt jittery, she felt weak in the knees, she felt like a schoolgirl. Definitely not like the badass, gun-wielding federal agent that she was.

At that moment, Jesse St. James strode into the office like the pompous ass that he was. Rachel, who was on the phone, gave him an irritated look but gestured for him to take a seat while she finished.

Quinn's skin crawled every time the man walked into the room. She wanted nothing more than to take his scrawny, slimy ass out back and kick the crap out of him. Something about his smug attitude just rubbed her the wrong way. She didn't know how Rachel dealt with him on a daily basis.

After several more minutes, Rachel hung up the phone and looked at him. Her expression matter-of-fact. "Jesse, thanks for stopping by. I wanted to talk to you about the other night — the date with Finn Hudson."

Jesse nodded. "I think we should set up another date as soon-"

Rachel held up a hand to stop him. "I wasn't finished. Please don't cut me off."

"But, Rachel-"

"That's 'Madame President' to you," she corrected in irritation. "As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, that date was offensive and repugnant. I'm not sure where you found that neanderthal, but I suggest you return him to whatever cave he crawled out of. If you seriously think my dating tastes run that nonsensical and unitelligent, you've got another thing coming. I am, as you are aware, a very busy woman. I do not have any time to waste. What little personal time I have needs to be spent with someone who can hold up their end of the conversation, someone who can answer a question without using the word 'chick', someone who is literate, someone who doesn't use their sleeve as a napkin, someone who looks at my eyes and not at my chest." She glanced across the room and briefly met Quinn's gaze, a small smile on her face.

Quinn's heart was beating a mile a minute. Strong, confident, bossy Rachel Berry was beyond hot. And had she just looked at her? Had she been referring to her when she was talking about someone worth spending time with? Quinn couldn't breathe, the air in the room suddenly thin. She needed to get a hold of herself. How was she supposed to do her job if she could barely keep herself upright?

Rachel continued. "So, what I'm saying, St. James, is that from now on, stay out of my personal life. You clearly wouldn't know a good catch if it was handed to you on the end of a fishing pole. Don't ever… _ever_ waste my time like that again."

Jesse gaped at her in shocked silence.

Rachel stared him down before adding dismissively, "That will be all," and waved her hand toward the door.

With that, Jesse exited the room in a huff.

"Damn that was hot," Quinn muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Rachel asked, turning her attention to the agent.

Quinn silently cursed herself, not realizing that she'd spoken out loud. "Oh, um… I was just saying that St. James is a jerk." She hoped Rachel hadn't heard what she'd really said. She was relieved when Rachel merely smiled and nodded before returning to her work.

However, there was a slight twinkle in Rachel's eye that made Quinn wonder if the brunette had actually heard more than she was letting on.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

Later that day, Quinn and Santana were assigned to cover the President's meeting with the Ambassador to England. They stood at attention on either side of the door as Rachel went to greet the Ambassador. She smiled warmly at him as they shook hands.

Quinn couldn't stop staring. She knew that protocol required her to stay alert, to watch for signs of danger, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't muster the will to tear her eyes away from the gorgeous brunette, who just so happened to be one of the most powerful people in the world. And that power looked good on her, and she wore it well. She was strong, confident, and kind, but not a pushover. As she and the Ambassador got down to business, a small smile crept across Quinn's face. This woman was amazing.

Some sort of conversation was going on, but Quinn had no idea what it was. She was enraptured by the vision in the dark gray power suit in front of her, serenaded by the musical tone of her voice, melted by the occasional flashes of that damn dimple as the brunette smiled at the Englishman.

Quinn couldn't help but notice the occasional glance that Rachel shot in her direction. She figured it was just because Rachel was bored or because she was distracted or because she was looking off into the distance as she thought about how to respond to the man. There was no way that Rachel was really looking at her. And those few brief smiles… clearly they were meant for the Ambassador. Rachel was just being polite.

Despite all this, Quinn struggled once again to maintain control over her senses.

This was getting out of hand.

She'd never been such a flustered mess in her life. Normally she was cool, calm and collected. She was a rock star. Now, she was becoming increasingly frayed at the seams. She really needed to get a grip… She just wasn't exactly sure how.

~~.~~

Rachel was struggling. Normally this kind of meeting was easy for her. She was quick on her feet, but also made sure she'd done her homework. She was good at her job… damn good. But today, not so much. For some reason, there was only one thing on her mind — and it wasn't the tenuous state of relations in the Middle East or the collapse of the world financial markets. It was a certain woman standing across the room from her… a woman _not_ named Lopez.

As the Ambassador droned on, she nodded and smiled and desperately attempted to keep up her end of the conversation. However, it was difficult beyond words. She could barely string together coherent sentences. She could feel Quinn's eyes on her and it unnerved her. There was no reason to be thrown off by this — it was Quinn's job to watch her, to protect her. Still, the feel of those sea green eyes on her was setting her heart aflutter. She occasionally glanced up, briefly meeting the woman's gaze before returning her attention to the man in front of her. Flustered wasn't a feeling she was used to feeling. She was Rachel Berry, damn it. She did _not_ get flustered. She was the one usually causing the flustering. But not this time.

She nodded and agreed with something the Ambassador had said. Hopefully she hadn't just agreed to nuke North Korea or to sell the United States back to England. She really had no idea.

However, she _did_ know one thing for sure — Quinn Fabray was not good for foreign relations.

~~.~~

Finally wrapping up the meeting, Rachel headed from the room, Quinn and Santana following her. As they did so, Santana leaned over to whisper, "So, are you and the Prez doing it?"

Startled by the question, Quinn stumbled slightly. Her gaze snapped to her friend and she said, probably louder than intended, "What!?" She quickly lowered her voice. "Why would you say that?"

"Maybe because the two of you spent that whole meeting making sickening goo-goo eyes at each other. I wonder if the Ambassador realized he was in the middle of some silent girl-on-girl eye sex."

"Shut it, Lopez. There is nothing going on between us. Besides, Rachel is straight, remember?" Quinn was beyond embarrassed, and hoped she hadn't turned as bright red as her cheeks felt.

"Yeah, she's about as straight as Ellen DeGeneres. Melissa Etheridge. Rosie O'Donnell. Need I go on? Trust me Fabray, the President wants to exercise her Executive Privilege on you."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Santana." Of course, secretly, she hoped Santana was right, but she still had her doubts.

As they headed outside into the sunlight, they pulled out their sunglasses. Santana put her standard issue aviators on. Quinn, never one to completely toe the line, whipped out a pair with bright purple frames. She followed the President into her limo, while Santana headed to sit up front next to the driver.

Rachel turned and smirked at Quinn. "Purple shades, Fabray? Really?" She winked flirtatiously at Quinn, causing butterflies to once again erupt in the blonde's stomach.

Quinn shook her head slightly. She was going to need to take out stock in the company that sold Tums at this rate.

Seeing the freaked out expression on the agent's face, Rachel bumped Quinn's shoulder with her own and chuckled. "I wasn't chastising you, Quinn. I was simply commenting on your willingness to be an individual, a rebel, in a job that requires so much conformity. I like it."

"I have to do these little things to keep me sane. My little rebellion against 'the man'."

Rachel smiled, showing her dimple, before leaning in conspiratorially. "Want to know a little secret?"

Quinn nearly died as Rachel's deep brown eyes locked on her own, shining with amusement. She nodded.

"I'm a rebel too." Rachel lifted her pant leg and unzipped one of her stylish high-heeled boots. Underneath, she revealed the most absurd pair of black, orange, and red flame covered socks that Quinn had ever seen. "I wear weird socks every day I can. It's my own private way of reminding myself that I'm an individual, that the old Rachel that I used to know is still in there. That it's not all serious political business."

Quinn grinned back, relishing in the fact that Rachel had just shared this intimate part of her life. "Don't worry, Madame President, your secret is safe with me… but now you're going to have to show me your socks every day. Otherwise I'm going to spend all day undressing you with my eyes, trying to figure out what you've got on underneath."

Rachel shot her an amused look.

It took Quinn a moment to realize what she'd just said. "Uh… I mean undressing your feet, not you," she corrected, wincing at her slip up.

Rachel laughed. "Quinn, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

The look of surprise and shock on Quinn's face suddenly made the usually confident Rachel take a step back. Had she offended the agent? Was it too much too soon? She hadn't really thought it through, she'd just acted on an impulse… which she'd learned in the past was usually a mistake. She was one who liked to plan, to think things over, and to mull over the possible outcomes of every decision she made. This cautious strategy had served her well over the years. Yet something about this woman made Rachel want to throw caution to the wind… to be impulsive… to be free… to ignore the need for appearances and formality… to be herself. But it looked as though that moment of impulsive weakness had been a mistake — and now she regretted it.

She tried the best she could to remedy the situation, to put Quinn at ease. "Please don't feel like you have to say yes. I know I'm your boss and it would be hard to say no. I probably overstepped some boundaries here. I just don't have many friends with a position like mine."

 _Friends._ The word cut through Quinn's heart like a knife. All the hope that had just soared through her came crashing back down all around her as the reality of the situation became clear. Of course Rachel wasn't interested in her romantically. Why would she be?

Rachel Berry was straight, she was successful, and she could have anybody she wanted. She was obviously just lonely.

Rachel continued, though Quinn only half heard what she said. "And I guess our little bonding over my socks made me miss that kind of banter, that joking that you can have with people who don't judge you for who you are and what title you hold. I just miss being myself, with no need to try and impress, I guess. And I feel comfortable around you. I really like you, Quinn. But please, no pressure. You look as if I've offended you or something."

Quinn shook her head quickly. "No… no, I'd love to. I just wasn't expecting it. It's not everyday you get to have dinner with the President of the United States." She smiled slightly. Clearly this wasn't a date and Rachel's intentions weren't at all romantic. Whatever. She'd take what she could get. Any time spent with Rachel, especially alone, was okay in her book.

Rachel's heart sank at Quinn's response. Clearly Quinn felt that there was no way to say no, that you didn't turn down the President. Also, it was clear that despite her best efforts, Quinn still considered her to be only her boss, not someone to just spend time with — with no pressure or formality. Someone to hang out with… someone to develop a relationship with that wasn't based on rank and prestige. Still, Rachel forged ahead. She wanted to spend time with this woman — and if she had to hide behind her position of power in order to do so — well then, so be it. "Super! Great!" she replied, perhaps a little too perkily. "What time is your shift over?"

"Six," Quinn replied.

Rachel nodded. "Why don't you run home afterwards and get comfortable or whatever and then meet me back at the White House at 7:30? If it's okay with you, I'd prefer to eat in. It's always such a production to go anywhere. And besides, the White House Chef is fabulous."

Quinn smiled. "Sounds perfect." She also silently thanked the heavens that Marley was on duty tonight and not Santana. She really didn't want to have to deal with the Latina's teasing and inappropriate comments at the moment. Especially since this wasn't actually a date. Knowing Santana, she'd have them married with ten kids by the end of the evening. That or doing very inappropriate things to each other, in very inappropriate places.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

Later that afternoon, Quinn overheard Rachel's side of a rather heated phone conversation with Jesse St. James.

"Yes, I understand. But I don't see why we need to address this now. My take on the issue is well known. Why the need for a new statement now?" Rachel said. She paused for a moment, listening to his response.

"Can't we just put out the same position that I took during the election? My views on what my position is haven't changed." A long pause. "I know, I know…" she continued. "And stop pushing me, Jesse. It won't get you anywhere. If you hadn't decided to stir the pot with the Republicans, this would be a non-issue. You know how strongly I feel about this, and I've already bent further than I should have to make people happy." . . . "Well, figure something out damn it. That's what you get paid to do!" She slammed the phone down and ran a hand through her chocolate locks.

Even a frustrated, angry Rachel was sexy, Quinn thought. Was there any look this woman didn't wear well? Quinn doubted it.

~~~~~QR~~~~~

Quinn couldn't decide what to wear to dinner. She wanted to look nice, but she didn't want to look like she was trying too hard. After all, only in her hormone-addled, lust-filled mind was this actually a date. Rachel had made it abundantly clear that she was only looking for friendship. And Quinn was thankful for any time they spent together, and lucky that her slip about the socks hadn't offended Rachel. Telling the President of the United States that you wanted to picture her naked… way to go Fabray. She shook her head at herself. She could imagine the look on Director Sylvester's face if she ever heard that one of her agents had made such a comment. Quinn would be lucky to get out of the older woman's office alive.

Quinn tore through her closet, frustrated as nothing seemed right. Normally, when around Rachel, she didn't have this problem — she always wore suits to work. Not much of a decision to be made. They were all Rachel saw her in. But putting aside the fact that she wanted to look… well… hot, what the hell did one wear when having a private, impromptu dinner with the President? Not exactly the kind of topic you'd find addressed in a _Miss Manners_ column.

Quinn was too busy muttering to herself and throwing clothes around her closet to notice her very amused roommate standing in the doorway of her bedroom.

"Got a hot date, Fabray?" Santana smirked.

Quinn looked up, blowing a stray blonde hair out of her eyes in frustration. "What? No. And what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be out with your girlfriend?"

Santana shrugged. "Brittany's coming over later. And stop lying. You totally have a date. Let me guess. You and the Hotness-in-Chief are going to get freaky."

"Santana!" Quinn yelled. "I've told you before, there's nothing going on between us."

"Right. And I'm Santa Claus."

Sometimes Quinn really hated her roommate. Mostly because the Latina had an annoying way of always being able to read a situation perfectly. Though in this case, her radar was a little off — since Rachel didn't consider this to be a date. And it wasn't a date, she reminded herself. She really needed to stop thinking of it as such.

"All I know, Quinn, is that you only get like this — all frantic and crazy-eyed and screamy — when you've got a date. A hot date. An 'I want to screw you up against the nearest available surface, I want to put my babies inside of you, I want to take your last name' kind of date. Not an 'I want to get to know you and talk about our feelings and then maybe kiss you after five dates' kind of date. And we both know that you've got a crush the size of Texas on the hobbit. So out with it. Where's she taking you? Are you going to let her veto your clothing and do the McNasty in the Oval Office?"

"Santana please…" Quinn pleaded, needing desperately to focus on getting ready. "If I tell you what's really going on, will you please stop talking and just help me? I'm freaking out here."

"Fine. But I expect details. And I'm not going to be all girly with you and giggle and pass a note to her in class for you. There will be no drawing your names in little hearts and talking about how dreamy she is."

Quinn rolled her eyes. Despite her roommate's attitude, Santana was at least somewhat amusing and willing to help when a crises such as this arose. She sighed and finally spilled. "So here's the deal. Yes, you are right — I have a little crush on Rachel."

"Little crush, my ass." Santana muttered, before Quinn cut her off with a murderous glare. She raised her hands in defense.

Quinn sighed and continued. "There's no point in denying it. She's gorgeous and brilliant and confident and kind. She's… well, she's amazing. But there's nothing going on, Santana. Nothing. I swear to you. In case you forgot, she's straight. We're having dinner tonight — as friends — which she made abundantly clear. But I'm freaking out anyway, because, as you know, that's what I do when I have a crush. So please, please help me." Quinn could hear the desperation in her own voice, and she hated it. "What do I wear?"

The look of panic on her best friend's face almost softened Santana's heart… almost. "Okay." Santana paused for a moment to ponder the choices. "Don't wear the purple top and black skirt you usually wear on first dates. It's a little too hooker chic, especially with the knee-high boots you seem to love so much. Unless, you know, that's the look you're going for, which could work, because the hobbit is totally a closet lady lover, but whatever. Anyway, don't go for that long black dress you somehow think looks good on you… it doesn't. Unless you want the 'Kiss Me I'm Amish' look. That dress covers you from head to toe. Seriously, Quinn, just burn the damn thing."

"Santana, you are not helping," Quinn groaned.

"I'm thinking. It takes the genius that is my mind a minute to work through the possibilities." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Okay, I've got it. Wear the red top. You know, the one that will have her staring at your rack all night. Pair it with some jeans and some heels and you'll be all set. By morning, you'll have 'First Lady' tattooed across your ass."

"You're so sweet, San, what would I ever do without you?" Quinn said sarcastically. However, Santana was right — the outfit could work. And on the off chance that the Latina was _really_ right, there were worse things to have branded on her ass than "First Lady". At least when the one doing the branding had brown eyes the color of milk chocolate and a dimple to die for.

~~~~~QR~~~~~


End file.
